Sensei's child
by chibiangelfromheaven
Summary: Do you remember, Sensei? I do. A sensei asks his sensei about a child she never saw grow up.


I've had this one in my head for a while. It's a bit of a whismical piece connecting a sensei to their student. Look up at the characters to see who, or else you'll figure it out soon enough. I never had much luck writing this character, anyway, and he's somewhat OOC in this fic anyway.

Anywho: Naruto's not mine. I simply borrow the characters for my own amusement and the amusement of others (I hope).

* * *

Do you remember how happy you were when you announced you were pregnant, Sensei? I do. You jumped around like a monkey that ate too much sugar, a feat none of us could quite understand then.

Do you remember when they told you your child would be a girl, Sensei? I do. I never saw you happier. A daughter, you exclaimed. A little girl to dress in pretty clothes and play tea parties with.

Do you remember how hard your husband tried to make you sit down while we trained, Sensei? I do. You were always there beside us as we trained, each in our own way, with those shiny weapons of yours.

Do you remember when you let me stay over one night when I exhausted myself trying to learn the nunchakus, Sensei? I do. You carried me to your home despite being pregnant, because you didn't want me going home to that empty apartment that I claimed as my abode.

Do you remember when finally they took you off the active duty list, Sensei? I do. You ranted and raved for days afterwards until we came to see you, my team mates and I, and asked you to help us with some theoretical exercises that kept you busy during the weeks you were stuck in bed with swollen ankles and morning sickness.

Do you remember when you got the news your husband wouldn't be coming home, Sensei? I do. You would've fallen to the ground had the ninja not caught you and promised that he would bring your husband's body home himself for burial.

Do you remember when your daughter was born, Sensei? I do. Seven pounds, five ounces at three in the morning, and did she ever wail!

Do you remember when she was a year old, Sensei? I do. You were sent on an easy mission, I was watching your daughter for you, when the ninja who had gone on the mission with you arrived at the door alone with the news you were gone.

They took her to the orphanage, Sensei. My team mates and I had no say in it. We were too young, they said, to care for a small child like her. They needed every ninja on the battlefield, and there were other war orphans she could grow up with there.

She looks just like you, Sensei. She wears her hair the same way, dresses the same way, acts the same way, uses the same weapons as you and everything else that reminds me of you.

I asked Sandaime if I could be her sensei when I and she were older, and he said that so long as I was jonin in time, then he would consider me for her sensei if she wished to become a ninja. I never doubted it, Sensei. You birthed her, after all.

I watched her grow from a distance, Sensei. I couldn't bring myself to go near her in case I, too, was wrenched away from her.

When she was twelve Sandaime told me I could have her as my student so long as I took on the prodigy and the class "dead last". I accepted, and I trained them all as best I could. You were a good sensei, Sensei, and I learned from you how to be a sensei for them.

I've lost track of how many times I've carried her back to my place when she's exhausted herself from training, Sensei. She's a lot like I used to be, sometimes, striving for perfection. I can't let her go back to that hollow place she calls home, the house so far from the place where she spent the first year of her life.

Maybe one day I'll have the courage to tell her you were my sensei, to tell her that I saw her as an infant. One day, maybe, I'll have the courage to give her the keys with their tiny kunai keychain and take her home again.

After all, Sensei, Tenten deserves to know she had a mother who loved her, and that she wasn't always alone.

* * *

So? Is it ok? 


End file.
